


Din & Grogu: Misadventures and Interludes (Febuwhump)

by Grumperella



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angry Din Djarin, Angst and Feels, Boba Fett & Fennec Shand Friendship, Boba Fett is a good bro, Canon-Typical Violence, Din "I don't know about "Jedi" stuff" Djarin, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin Whump, Din is a good Mando-bro, Don't hurt Mando's baby, Father-son camping trip, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Grogu | Baby Yoda Needs a Hug, Hurt Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, ManDadlorian, Mand'alor!Din, Mentioned Grogu | Baby Yoda, Nightmares, Protective Din Djarin, Protective Grogu | Baby Yoda, Sad Grogu | Baby Yoda, The Razor Crest gets fed some yummy fuel!, gone wrong, she deserves it, the finger wagTM, you WILL get got
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29161551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumperella/pseuds/Grumperella
Summary: This is a collection of 7 of my fics inspired by Febuwhump 2021. However, I've since transitioned all of these in to a Series format. Archiving this but not deleting it because I <3 & cherish all the wonderful kudos and comments.Subscribe to the serieshere.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Bo-Katan Kryze, Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Fennec Shand, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & Luke Skywalker, Koska Reeves & Axe Woves
Comments: 20
Kudos: 174





	1. Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump Prompt #1: Mind Control
> 
> Takes place sometime during Season 1. 
> 
> Din stops to refuel the Razor Crest, only to run into trouble… as usual. How is our favorite duo going to get out of this one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make this a more fun writing exercise for myself, I’m simply not worrying about continuity, canon, etc. I’m sticking with existing characters and canon relationship dynamics, but not worrying about “wait, when in the canon timeline could that have possibly happened?” blah blah. If a chapter takes place at a canon juncture, it'll say so. Otherwise, it's AU and just… enjoy the stories for what they are. Snippets. Emotional releases. Indulgences.

_Kshhhhhhh_. The comm fuzzed with static as Din waited. A few moments passed, then-

“ _Razor Crest,”_ came a tinny voice, _“you’re cleared for refueling dock 39_.”

“Copy.” He responded, deftly piloting the old gunship around the rim of the space station, following his compu-nav’s directions to the proper docking port. Seeing a peeling and faded “39” painted large over a section, he swung the ship around and sideways, carefully easing the Crest’s underbelly into alignment with the station’s air-tight dock. Just as he touched down, he felt the station’s locking clamps latch on to the Crest, the jolt making him sway in his seat. The little figure beside him cooed in surprise, falling backwards onto his rear from where he’d been standing on the cockpit dash. 

Din cocked his helmet to the side wryly.

“That's why I always tell you to sit in your seat when it’s time to land.” The child just giggled and clapped his hands together, looking up at Din with one ear raised. 

“It’s not like you ever listen to me, why start now.” He said sardonically, shaking his head. Flicking buttons and booting down systems, Din unlocked the fuel tank’s seal before the ship's final shut down sequence, then rose from the pilot’s chair. He looked down at his “copilot”. 

“You ready to get out of this ship for a bit?” 

“Ehhh!” The child stretched out short stubby arms to the man, who took the cue and lifted the kid up to rest him against his chest.

“Thought so.” He responded with a small smile. Tucking his ward into the crook of one arm, he grabbed his rifle from the hook on the wall behind the cockpit and slung it over his back one-handed before sliding down the ladder to the lower deck. Glancing around for a moment, he finally spied the kid’s carrying bag. 

He’d only recently started using the small brown sack for the child when it became clear that he couldn’t leave him alone on the ship for long. After seeing that _utreekov_ wannabe bounty hunter holding a rifle to the kid’s head, Din had viscerally decided in that moment that he never should have left the kid alone. Not only had the toddler somehow escaped the locked bunk, but he'd wandered out of the ship and gotten seen, which led to the dangerous culmination events. Not to mention, if Peli had been anyone of lesser character, it could have ended even worse. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. So, he’d drudged up an old shoulder bag that he used for market trips and decided it was big enough to hold the kid. It’d taken a few tries to get the little one to understand what he wanted to do, but after it had clicked, the child had been thrilled to join Din on his jaunts outside the ship when he stopped to restock supplies or refuel the ship, like he was doing now. The kid didn’t seem to mind swaying at his hip as they walked, and Din couldn’t exactly afford a new pram at the moment, so it would have to do.

Putting the kid down on one of the crates, he held open the bag. Squealing happily, the child scrambled into the sack and gripped the edge of the cloth, looking up at him expectantly. Smirking, Din tossed the strap over his shoulder and swept his cloak around, to shield the kid from prying eyes.

"Comfy?" He queried, glancing down at the little wrinkled face.

"Ato, toh!" Owlish black eyes blinked back him as the kid burbled. 

“Good. Alright, bud, time to haggle.”

Opening, the airlock on the floor of the ship, Din stepped down the ladder into the space station’s loading tube, which stretched downward at a slight angle until the man was reoriented to the station’s gravitational “up”. As he climbed down, he could hear the cacophony of other travelers doing business getting steadily louder.

Finally, the tube emptied out into a large docking bay and Din dropped down to the floor with a grunt, taking in the busy bay teeming with activity before him. Colored arrows painted on the durasteel floor where he’d dropped down told him in aurebesh which direction to go for different destinations: payment station, weapons lockers, cantina, hard goods market, fresh goods market, and so on. Luckily, he’d been to this particular refueling station in the Kessel sector before. Being that it was tucked away in the deep Outer Rim, it was a favorite for smugglers and bounty hunters alike. Ignoring the arrows, Din scanned the bay, easily finding the payment station far off to the right, and began making his way through the bustling crowd. 

Most fueling stations in the Core and Mid-Rim you could simply transact over the holo-net, transferring credits while droids worked quickly to fuel your ship. Here in the Outer Rim, everything was in cash. No transfers prints, no trail - exactly what he wanted. Plus, when it was cash at a skeevy station he could haggle the price down. He didn't usually bother, but now on the run with the kid in tow and no chance for Guild work, every credit counted.

Din tried to ignore the feeling of the little body at his hip squirming as he walked, aware that the kid was trying to wriggle his tiny head out from behind the cloak to see better. Finally looking down at the continued fidgeting, Din huffed while keeping his pace.

"Hey, settle do-" Suddenly the heavily armored man was rocked bodily to the side as a large Devaronian bumped into him and a high-pitched squawk sounded from the bag. A red horned head looked down with a raised eyebrow and Din dropped a hand to the bag protectively, tensing, but the creature merely grunted an apology and kept going. Releasing a sharp breath, Din looked down to make sure the kid was okay. Large eyes squinted up at him in displeasure. He sighed.

“Sorry, kid. I’ll try to be more careful.”

The man didn’t have to worry about the kid’s scorn long though - only a moment later the squinted eyes widened eagerly when a massive Besalisk in brightly colored robes lumbered by, four arms swinging leisurely at his sides. The child pointed excitedly and looked up at Din, one ear bending against his armor. The Mandalorian couldn’t help a small smile, resuming his pace.

“I see him, bud. Four arms'd be pretty handy, huh?” 

He was glad the kid got a kick out of seeing all the new creatures and places as they traveled. He knew his small ship wasn’t exactly a playground for the kid and being on the run didn't afford them a lot of time planetside… he only hoped small moments like this were enough.

Seeing an open window at the payment station, Din eased up to it smoothly, startling the bored Chadra-fan sitting behind the transparisteel. 

“Ooh, oh, oh!” It said excitedly in a high-pitched chitter. “G-greeting, sir!”

“Port 39. Need a full refuel.”

“Sure, sure. What type of ship you got, sir?”

“Takes Rhydonium and needs a new fuel power cell.” Din responded, purposely not answering the attendant's question. Stations always asked so they’d know what kind of fuel to use, but get the wrong attendant and that information got used in... other ways. He wasn’t that naive.

The little brown creature tapped away at a console beside him, flat snout twitching.

“Got it, got it.” It paused and looked sideways at him, head angled up from its short standing. “Hey, ain’t you a Mandalorian?”

“Last I checked.” Din said shortly, already getting a bad feeling.

“Feel like I seen something recently ‘bout a Mandalorian… where’d I see that?”

“How much.” Din pressed frustratedly, trying to move them past the creature’s dangerous musings.

“Oh, right, sure, sure! Gonna be 2000 standard credits, sir.” Even as he said it, Din could see the Chadra-fan's black, greedy eyes looking him up and down, its head cocked to the side. His shoulders tensed, hoping it wouldn’t think too hard about it.

“You take peggats?”

“Course! We're in Hutt space ain't we? That’ll be 50 peggats.” The high-pitched voice was starting to grate on Din. He'd wanted to haggle on the price, but a deep, desperate instinct was telling him to end this transaction as quickly as possible. 2000 credits was high, but not unfair... he'd just have deal with it. As he reached into his belt pouch to pull out the money, the voice perked up again. A pulse of tingling adrenaline shot through him.

“Oh oh! I know where I sees a Mando: that _wanted_ holo. Worth a lot, ya know. Wouldn’t be you, would it?”

Either this Chadra-fan was playing with him, or it was genuinely, incredibly stupid. He thought it might be the latter.

“Don’t think so.” Din grunted, passing over the peggats through the round opening in the window, where the creatures sharp claws pulled them in. It shrugged and twitched a brown, furred ear, typing the commands to approve the refueling into his terminal.

“S’pose not, s’pose not. The Mando I sees had a little one with him anyways. You don’t have nothin’ like that, do yas.” 

Keeping in line with his luck of late, the kid chose that exact moment to let out a little coo and reached up a clawed little hand to tap against the counter, trying to pull himself up so that he could see over it. Din hastily pushed him down and shushed him, but it was too late. With a gasp, the short bat-like creature jumped onto the interior counter to press his face against the transparisteel, looking down with wide eyes and mouth at the tiny green face that looked up at him. 

Seeing the curious furred brown creature through the window, the kid squealed with delight and clapped his hands, pointing like he had earlier. This time, Din wasn’t amused.

Hand dropping to his blaster lightning fast, Din swept his cloak over the kid and angled his hip away, settling into an imposing, battle ready stance. 

“You- you- yer him!” The Chadra-fan squeaked, pulling out his own blaster and aiming it through the window's opening. “I’ll be rich!” 

“I wouldn’t try it.” Din seethed darkly, trying to sound as intimidating as he knew he could.

“What ya gonna do Mando? I got yer ship locked up at P-39, ya couldn’t take off mid-fuel if ya wanted to.”

Din knew the creature was right - had known it from the moment he saw the small beady eyes look him up and down - they were trapped here. A heavy dread dropped into the pit of his stomach as he tried to think of how they’d get out of this one. He could run, but to where? His _beskar’gam_ didn’t yield to blending in very well, and while the station was large, it was still self contained, he didn’t have anywhere to go. He could try to steal another ship to escape, but that was risky on a number of fronts, and he’d likely get caught before he ever made it to one. He could just shoot the attendant, but it still had the lock on his ship... Plus, he had the kid with him, he didn’t want to risk things breaking out into an all-out firefight. 

Dread and anxiety bloomed into panic. Pulling out his blaster slowly, he set it on the payment window’s counter, raising his empty gun hand placatingly, the other still curled around the child at his hip.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to end in bloodshed… I have more peggats. I can pay you. Just forget you ever saw us and we’ll be on our way.”

The bat-creature chuckled, a shrill twitter that ended in him cocking his blaster. 

“Oh sure, sure, Mando. Ha! No ways ya got the kinda money that’s on yer head. And the kiddie’s worth even more!”

Din’s panic spiked at that, he grit his teeth, heart racing in his chest. His left hand clenched around the child, who cooed up at him, worriedly. The Chadra-fan was tapping away at his terminal now, keeping his blaster steady as beady eyes flit between his screen and the Mandalorian frozen at the window.

He’d run. He had to. Despite having nowhere to go, he couldn’t just stand here, nor could he break through the transparisteel window with his bare fists to strangle the attendant like he really wanted to.

Heart pounding in his ears, fear for the child tingled throughout his body into his fingertips. He pulled the kid up to his chest and cradled him with both arms.

“I’m sorry kid, we’re caught.” He whispered tightly down to the little bundle. “I’m gonna make a run for it and find somewhere for you to hide, okay? You have to hide and not come out until the bad guys are gone, no matter what you hear, okay? Please tell me you understand.”

But instead of coo-ing up at him, the kid was squirming to turn around, short arms reaching insistently for the window’s little ledge. The Chadra-fan did a double take and stood abruptly, stopping his tapping to aim the blaster straight at the kid’s small body.

“What’s he doing, eh?” Din tried to pull the kid down out of the way of the blaster’s aim, but the child had managed to dig his clawed grip into the counter and he held on stubbornly, babbling insistently at the man. Wondering what the kid was trying to do, Din let the child pull himself onto the ledge where he placed one little tri-digit hand against the clear barrier, eyes squinting, head dropping. 

_Wait… that… he looked like that when he…_

Suddenly, the blaster dropped from the attendant’s lax claws. The bat-creature had a glazed look on his furred face, eyes dull. 

“What the…” Din muttered, looking between the toddler on the ledge and the attendant. 

“Y-yer nobody, s-sir.” The Chadra-fan’s voice was monotone, like it was in a trance. Din’s shock was palpable.

“What?”

“N-nobody, sir. Nobody I know. Just passin’ through, ain’t that right?” Din looked sharply down at his young ward, eyes fully closed now, frozen in concentration. It took an effort to tear his eyes away to look back up at the Chadra-fan.

“Y-yes. That’s right.”

“No problem, no problem, no problem.” It murmured groggily again and again. “No problem here, sir.”

Suddenly, the child slumped to the side, Din catching him quickly in his arms. Concern jumped to the forefront of his mind, temporarily pushing down his confusion and the flash of… fear.

The attendant shook his head roughly, like it was just waking up. It looked up at him and smiled, fangs glinting.

“Oh, oh! Yer still here sir? No problem here.” He looked at his screen and frowned. “Looks like your ship’s deadlocked... s’weird. Hmmmm, there ya go, no problem.” It looked back up at him and smiled languidly, eyes still slightly glazed. “Yer all paid up sir, may as well be on yer way. Got other customers ya know.”

“Right.” Din muttered, still shaking off his shock. He wasn’t totally sure what had just happened, but he wouldn’t look a gift fathier in the mouth. “T-thank you.”

With that he turned away and stiffly strode back to the P39 loading tube as quickly as his feet could take him, eager for the safety of his ship. 

* * *

Din was staring at the kid. The kid was staring back.

Since returning to the ship, heart hammering in his chest, muscles weak with the rush of relief that they had somehow avoided capture - yet again - Din hadn’t been sure what to do. It was as though a nervous energy had overtaken his body. He hadn’t been able to sit still. Instead, he’d set the kid on a crate, barely sparing him a glance, and immediately started pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. From one end of the Crest’s cargo bay to the other, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

No matter how he tried to wrap his head around what had happened… he just couldn’t. Sure the kid could lift things with his mind, but- but- _mind control_?

Because that was the only thing it could have been.

As impossibly ridiculous as that sounded… Din had seen it with his own eyes. Seen the way the kid lifted his hand to the window, squinted his eyes, and slumped after the effort. It all came back to the kid. It _had_ to be his doing. But _mind control?_ _Really?_ What did that mean? Had the kid ever used it on him? Would he even know? What _else_ could the kid do? His thoughts were spiraling quickly, but it all came back down to one helpless feeling.

What the _hell_ had he gotten himself into?

And beneath the confusion, beneath the disbelief, the spluttering incredulity… there was fear. He couldn’t deny it. He’d never feared the kid before today, not once. Not even after seeing the impressive display of power when he’d stopped the mudhorn. But this… this was different. This was dangerous. This was your _mind_. Your thoughts twisted and changed… Din could feel his heart racing, pounding loudly in his chest. But then he had shaken his head and stubbornly pushed the feeling down. 

_Osik_. This was the _kid_. The kid would never hurt him. He believed that. _He did._

And so, he’d stopped pacing and looked over at the crate, seeing that the kid was just watching him quietly. His ears were drooped, eyes wet, his little claws clasped together in front of him... like he was waiting for something. Shoulders slumping with a sigh, Din had stepped in front of him, dropping to one knee so that they were eye level.

And now here they were, staring at each other. Unsure where to even begin, the heavy silence stretched, until finally, Din cleared his throat softly.

“Kid...did you… ahm... was that... _you_?” Owlish black eyes stared back at him, mutely. The man motioned towards the airlock hatch. “Back there, when the attendant, uh, 'changed' his mind... did... did _you_ do that?”

The child's eyes glistened and his ears drooped further. Din's heart clenched.

“It’s… it’s okay if it was, buddy. You saved our lives. You got us out of a really tough situation.”

The kid’s ears raised a little at this, head cocking slightly to the side. His little shoulders were still stiff though. The Mandalorian raised a hand and the child flinched. Shocked, the man pulled his hand back, heart dropping into his boots. Any apprehension he had felt immediately melted away.

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you." He implored softly. "I’d never hurt you _ad'ika_ , you know that right?”

A soft coo sounded, but the kid wouldn’t look up at him. Din sighed and tried again, slowly reaching out to the small body and was relieved to see the toddler didn’t flinch this time. Gently cupping the kid’s cheek, his palm engulfing the side of the little head, he brushed his thumb against one long ear.

So the kid could do some mind control. He’d just try to put it out of his mind. He trusted the little tyke. It's not like the boy would be able to explain it to him anyway.

“Kid… you’re real special. And you know how to do stuff that I just… don’t understand. Doesn’t make it bad. It just surprised me. I still don’t know exactly what you did… or how you did it, but it wasn’t bad. You’re a _good_ kid.”

The child’s eyes raised to meet his T-visor and tiny claws reached up to clasp around one of his fingers. 

Din felt a rush of affection swell in his chest, choking him on his next words. 

“That-” he cleared his throat weakly. “that was pretty close, though, huh?”

Tiny hands just squeezed his finger. He figured that was affirmation enough.

“Don't worry, _ad'ika_. We’re gonna be okay, you and me.” 

He heard a loud beep from the cockpit, indicating that the refueling had completed. Good. It was time to get _far_ away from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a Translations** :  
> utreekov - idiot  
> beskar’gam - Mandalorian armor  
> Osik - shit (generally)  
> ad'ika - little one, son
> 
> "Four arms'd be pretty handy, huh?" - Yes that was a Dad Joke™, and no, Din did not even realize he'd made it. He's a little oblivious like that, slippin' and slidin' into Dad territory.


	2. Mind Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump Day 2 Prompt: "I can’t take this anymore"
> 
> Takes place immediately after the end of Ep 14: The Tragedy.

With only the beskar spear in hand, Din walked up the ramp of the Slave I after Boba and Fennec. His grip was white knuckled on the spear beneath his gloves. The world around him was blurred, like he was watching a holo vid that stuttered between slowed and sped up. He felt disoriented, but stubbornly clung to his stoic facade. The ship’s entry bay was familiar and alien at the same time. Metal grating, rusted ladder. _Not his ship._

Boba took off his helmet and turned to him, his expression grave. He could feel Fennec’s gaze move to him as well. He was still reeling from the whiplash of the enemy turned ally. He was grateful for her help, but still couldn’t fully fathom her motivations. It made him uneasy.

“Where do we need to go?” Boba asked. 

_To get my kriffing kid._ He wanted to roar, but didn’t. His nostrils flared.

Din considered his options. Moff Gideon had the child. 

_Grogu was g-_

He cut himself off of that train of thought almost violently. Moff Gideon’s cruiser. His only chance of getting the kid back was tracking that imperial cruiser, somehow. Any imperial contacts he’d had or paid off in the past were out of the question now; after the murder of The Client and his destruction of the Imperial base on Nevarro, it was likely that he was known and wanted. He needed an ex-imperial that he could bribe or goad… that had nothing to lose. 

_Wait_. 

The _hut'uun_ he’d left imprisoned on the New Republic prison ship… Ran had said he was an ex-imperial sharpshooter, he probably still knew his codes and protocols… but how… _Cara_. Cara was a New Republic marshall now, she could get him access to this guy. She wouldn’t like it, _but he would convince her_.

“Nevarro.” He finally answered, gruffly. “There’s a city in the southern hemisphere, I need to meet a contact there. They can help.”

Boba simply nodded, replacing his helmet and turning to climb up the ladder to the cockpit. Fennec eyed him a moment longer so he stood stiffly in her gaze, meeting her eyes through the visor head on. His entire body was tense, ready to fight. 

He still didn’t trust her. Or Boba Fett for that matter. But Fett was _Mando’ad_ , and a foundling no less. He clearly understood the value the Tribe placed on their children by his decree to help. However, _something_ was off… his instincts were screaming that there was some other motivation he just wasn’t seeing yet. 

But he couldn’t afford to be picky at the moment; his ship was obliterated. _His kid was gone_. The simmering rage beneath his determination was keeping him standing in this moment, staring down the former assassin as she sized him up. He’d accept their help because he _needed_ to get Grogu back, at any cost. If they turned on him, he’d have to deal with that when it came. 

Fennec’s eyes weren’t hard though. After a tense moment, her expression softened at the edges, as though she’d come to her own conclusion.

“I’ll be with Boba in the cockpit. This space is yours, do what you will. There is a bunk and a fresher one level below.”

Din simply nodded mutely. Despite its clearly heavy modifications, he had been inside a Firespray-class craft before. Fennec just nodded back and turned to climb up the ladder. 

Then he was alone.

Well and truly alone. The familiar weight of the kid against his hip was missing. His ship… his home… was utterly destroyed. Everything he’d ever owned was gone. His covert was gone. His Tribe scattered or dead. 

Slumping down into one of the cabin’s seats, Din simply held the beskar spear tight in his fist and stared down at the durasteel floor, dazed. 

* * *

“You think he’s gonna be alright?” Fennec shot Boba a sidelong glance as she booted up the passenger controls, flicking up the switches that unlocked access to the weapons array. Didn’t hurt to have a second pair of hands ready, in case they ran into trouble on their tail. 

Boba shrugged, hands on the steering controls as he piloted them out of the atmosphere. 

“His child was taken from him. Nothing will be alright until he gets him back.” 

Fennec raised an eyebrow at him as she calibrated the twin blaster cannons that jutted out the front of the ship.

“That’s... unusually sympathetic for you.” Boba just grunted.

“I know what it’s like for father and son to be separated, that’s all.”

The assassin smirked and tossed him an amused look.

“You wanna _talk_ about it?” She asked sarcastically. She knew he didn’t, and for her part, she didn’t want to listen. Their partnership was amiable and it worked, mainly because it was all business. 

“It was a long time ago.” Boba groused, his way of dismissing the topic. 

Surprisingly though, Fennec could tell that the man still seemed distracted… distant. His grip on the controls was white-knuckled, his gaze into the stars unfocused as they flew. She realized belatedly that the ex-bounty hunter hadn’t even entered their coordinates for the trip to Nevarro yet. Snorting to herself, she leaned over to tap them in. Boba didn’t even seem to notice.

Her raised eyebrow turned into a full grimace of incredulity at the man. Finally noticing her staring at him, the man’s eyes flicked to hers and he seemed to come back to himself. He scowled.

“Mind your own business.” He growled at her.

Fennec just smirked and shrugged, going back to her weapons calibrations, then eventually she started dismantling and cleaning her blaster pistol on her lap. It, and her rifle, had gotten plenty of use today, and it helped pass the time.

* * *

It had been not even an hour into their trip when the tense, heavy silence of the man beside her started to grate on her. She’d already been forced to listen to the Mandalorian pacing below in the passenger bay since they’d entered hyperspace, the soft clang of his boots against metal echoing faintly up into the cockpit. Back and forth. Back and forth. But then Boba had started bouncing his knee beside her, his heel tapping against the grate with a nervous energy. She grimaced visibly at him, but he seemed to take no notice. 

Not 10 minutes later, there was a loud clang below, as though something metal had been dropped, and then a heavy thump of something else dropping to the floor.

“Oh great maker, **I can’t take this anymore**.” Fennec cried, throwing up her hands. She turned bodily to the older man beside her, face livid. “ _Boba_ , go talk to him. Whatever is… going on with you right now, I’m sure another Mandalorian will understand.” She motioned testily to the cockpit’s ladder down to the passenger hold, lips pressed into a thin line. “And he’s obviously a mess, so _someone_ ought to go check on him. I certainly don’t know what to say.”

Boba jerked out of his stupor at her shout to lock dark brown eyes with her sharply, glaring. Fennec glared right back.

For a moment she thought he might brush her off and she’d have to shove him down the hatch herself, but to her surprise, the ex-bounty hunter cut off his glare to look back down at his hands, realizing he was gripping the controls to the point of his joints aching. Slowly, he unclenched his fingers from the steering controls, looking down at his palms. Frowning at himself, the unhelmeted Mandalorian just nodded and stood, pausing to motion at the pilot’s dash before he stepped down.

“Man the controls while I’m gone.” 

Fennec scoffed and flipped her braid back over one shoulder. “Or something like that,” she tossed back at him. Boba just grunted and disappeared down the hole.

At least the tap of his bouncing knee and clang of the other Mandalorian’s pacing had both stopped. Fennec breathed a sigh of relief. 

* * *

When Boba’s boot hit the floor of the passenger bay, he turned to see the other Mandalorian on his hands and knees, one gloved hand shoved under a passenger seat, grasping desperately for something beneath it. The older man watched curiously as the armored man pulled away to reveal a small, spherical shift knob gripped between the fingers of a visibly shaking hand. Noticing the other hunter staring at him, the Mandalorian started and got hurriedly to his feet, body tense, while one hand quickly shoved the little sphere into a pouch on his belt.

Boba stepped forward and cocked his head slightly, eyes now on the closed pouch.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” The younger man’s voice was clipped and hard. Boba huffed a breathy laugh then sat in one of the bay’s chairs, facing the silver suit of beskar. 

“Right.”

Silence reigned and the Mandalorian just stood, tense, hands fisted at his side, staring Boba down like he expected to be challenged at any moment. 

Instead, Boba said, “He’s going to be okay, _vod_.”

Din froze, surprise quickly giving way to bitter scoff. “You don’t know that,” he growled.

“You said they wanted him for some lab experiments, right?” Din had breathlessly provided an extremely brief background on the kid and their history on the threesome’s way back to the Slave I. Boba figured there was more to the story, but he got the jist. “They won’t kill him if they need him. We’ll get him back.”

Din’s anger boiled, heart racing. He was furious at himself more than anything. He clenched his fists so hard the leather creaked.

“They could be doing anything to him. _Hurting_ him... I didn’t stop them. I wasn’t fast enough.”

Boba considered him. Then the jetpack that rested against one of the seats.

“And what would you have done, if you had gotten to him in time? Fought off an entire light cruiser of Imperials with your gun and a jetpack? Fennec and I are a force to be reckoned with, but even we know when we’re outgunned. There was no scenario where you won on that hill.”

“I shouldn’t have left him alone up there in the first place!” The Mandalorian hissed angrily, starting his frustrated pacing again. On his third pass, the younger man savagely flung out a fist at the wall, punching the vented metal panel above one of the seats loudly with roar. Boba didn’t even blink, watching the Mandalorian evenly.

“Hey, watch it,” a voice called down from the cockpit in annoyance. “You break it, you buy it!”

_Breathe._

Din reigned in his ragged gulps of air, swallowing down his rage, his agony, his loss. His knuckles throbbed in pain but he didn’t bother to assess if he’d broken something, glaring down at the floor again as he slumped back into a seat. He noticed distantly that his hands were still shaking… they hadn’t stopped since he’d boarded the ship. _What was wrong with him?_

Boba continued to watch him, then the older man leaned forward, a hard, determined look on his face.

“You _will_ get your son back, _vod_. It is like a game of Sabaac: sometimes you have to sacrifice a piece to gain a better position on the board." The seasoned hunter sighed. "What happened… it was the best possible outcome given the circumstances."

The other Mandalorian scoffed darkly and Boba glared at him.

"Your boy was not shot out of the air, or murdered on the ground, he was taken by those that want him, so he is surely alive. Neither were _you_ killed in an attempt on the light cruiser. If he is alive, then he can be rescued. If _you_ are alive, then you can rescue him. All the pieces are now ready to be played." Boba paused. "So, Mandalorian, look three steps ahead. What’s our move?”

Din shook, and breathed, and ached. But he had already been formulating their next steps in his mind from the moment he plucked the little durasteel shift knob from Crest's ash remains. He looked up at Boba and clenched his jaw tight.

“You're right. I have a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a Translation:**  
>  hut'uun - coward (bad insult)  
> Mando’ad - Mandalorian (child of Mandalore)  
> vod - brother


	3. Imprisonment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump prompt #3: Imprisonment.
> 
> Grogu wanders off in a market and gets snatched. Din. Flips. Out.

The moment Din felt relaxed, he knew something was wrong.

The market they strolled through was colorful and lively. The smells of cooking meats permeated the air while vendors shouted their wares in an amiable fashion into the passing throng of visitors. At first, the kid had been a squirming, wriggling mess, twisting every which way trying to see everything. He’d pulled at Din’s belt, pointing at things, sometimes tapping at his armor to get his attention. The Mandalorian would stop and look, telling the kid what he was seeing, trying his best to be patient with the kid’s excitement. 

Din, for his part, was trying to pay attention to the stalls and what they were selling. They were low on numerous critical supplies, least of which was fresh food. Additionally, he needed to find a new converter for the Crest’s specific model of water filtration system, which wasn’t going to be easy to find. It hadn’t reached a critical point yet, but he’d been keeping his eye out for a while with no luck. This was the fourth market he’d tried while still avoiding more populated worlds. Hopefully fourth time was the charm.

After a little more than an hour of strolling through the long streets of market stalls, the kid had finally settled down, content to watch silently from the bag, letting Din focus on his shopping as he haggled at different vendors, adding more weight to the bags he’d slung over him. 

Now that he thought about it though, the kid had been pretty quiet for a while now, which was unlike him. Maybe he’d dropped off to sleep? Pausing to look down, the Mandalorian swept aside his cloak to look into one of the many sacks at his hip. 

_No._

His blood froze in his veins… the bag was empty.

_Wha- what? How? When?_

Looking up with panic pulsing through him, he searched around him frantically, looking down and twisting around in a sharp circle. Tapping his vambrace as he turned on his tracking overlay.

The world washed into blues with numerous lines of discernible tracks littering the floor in hot red. He tapped to hone in on the tracks he’d now ingrained into his tracking software. Only blue remained.

No sign of the kid. He must have escaped the bag a while back, and with all the other supplies he was carrying, he hadn’t noticed the loss of that small weight. 

_No, no._

Ashamed and furious with himself, Din started retracing his steps back the way he had come, nearly running at first, but soon slowing, so that he could scan every inch of the market side to side as he went.

As concerned as he was with drawing attention to them, this couldn’t go on.

“Kid?!” He shouted into the din of the market street. Heads turned abruptly in surprise, but he ignored them.

“ _Ad’ika_?” He tried again, raising his voice louder, trying to amplify it as far as he could as he walked, still scanning his surroundings. “Kid! Where did you go?”

Turning a corner that they’d rounded a good twenty minutes or ago, Din kept calling out as he walked. 

_Wait… there!_

Just as his helmet’s HUD picked up the small prints of little tri-digit feet a ways away, he heard a sound that made his heart stop.

The kid screamed. 

Din’s head whipped around in the direction of the shriek, his viewfinder immediately homing and zooming in on a stall about 50 feet away. His blood ran cold, the suffocating fear that had been overriding every thought boiling away into in molten rage.

There, just down the street, was his kid. In a cage. 

_In a cage._

Snarling, Din pulled out his vibro-blade and broke into a sprint towards the stall, seeing the vendor, a large fat human man with a red blotchy face, poking a knife between the bars of the cage at the kid, who was pressing himself as far back as possible. 

Startled shoppers stumbled out of his way and, as if sensing him, the child turned and saw him. Instantly the kid cried out and thrust a little hand through the bars at him, face wet with tears.

“Abah! Bah!” The loud wails shredded through his heart, his lungs burning not from the sprint but from the fury choking him. It felt like the longest ten seconds of his life.

Reaching the stall, Din hurdled it in a single leap, hand closing around the man’s throat as he shoved him back against the wall, away from his kid. One of the man’s hands flew up in surprise, as if to fight the Mandalorian off, but Din skewered the vibro-blade through the man’s hand, pinning it to the wall.

A strangled scream of pain rent the air, which throttled into a gurgling high pitched shriek of panic. More screams echoed around him, shoppers and other vendors shouting at him in surprise and derision.

The man tried to speak but could only get out a strangled, wet gasp. Din loosened his fist infinitesimally. 

“Gah. You- you- you’re _insane_!” The man cried.

“You caged _my kid_.” Din growled at him, his rasping voice made that much more dangerous by the imposing helmet’s voice modulator.

“Wh-what are you,” he gasped breathlessly, “talking about?”

The child whined sadly behind Din, sniffing and weeping as he reached for the man through the bars. Din turned his helmet and twisted to look the kid over, trying to determine if he was hurt.

The man under his grip spluttered.

“Th-that’s your k-kid? I didn’t k-know, Mandalorian, I swear! I swear! S-someone just sold it to me not t-ten minutes ago!” The beskar helmet sharply refocused on the man, who withered under his gaze.

“He.” Din seethed. “He’s not an “it”. And he’s not for sale.”

“B-but what about my lost c-credits!” 

The child whimpered and Din’s fist tightened like a vice around the man’s neck as he twisted the knife still buried in his meaty hand.

The man howled in pain, breaking into choked sobs as the cries of protest around him got louder. People were crying and begging him to let the man go, but he barely heard them.

He squeezed.

...

A soft mewling suddenly broke through the cold, red fury consuming him. Seeing that the man was going to pass out any second, Din promptly let go of the portly neck and yanked his blade out of the man’s hand. The vendor collapsed to the ground, gasping heavily as he leaned back against the wall, cradling his injured hand to his chest, dark red blood oozing out of the wound.

Without another word, Din turned and rushed to the cage, using the vibro-blade to slice clean through narrow bars. Ripping the side off and tossing it aside, the Mandalorian sheathed his blade and reached in with both hands to gently lift the little green and brown bundle, who was still weeping softly, out of the cage.

“Hey, hey, kid, I got you.” He whispered, cradling the little body to his chest, the icy panic that had been clutching his heart finally starting to ease away, “You’re safe now, I got you.”

The kid reached up for him, scrabbling at the cloth at his neck with desperate blubbering sounds as he tried to get closer to the man. Din let him crawl up into his neck, one hand patting his back, the other supporting him.

“I know, _ad’ika_ , I know. This is why I keep telling you not to wander off.”

A sniveling coo sounded from his neck.

“I didn’t mean that,” Din sighed, patting the little back comfortingly and dropping his helmet to rest against the wrinkled head. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, bud.”

A rush of relief washed over him, his pounding heartbeat finally slowing. 

With his ward now safely back in his arms, Din turned his hard beskar gaze to the poor-excuse for a man bleating in pain on the ground.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.” Was all he said by way of apology. Then he strode around the stall, ignoring the mix of curious, angry and terrified glares of the passers-by and neighboring vendors as he left the scene. 

Heading back to the Razor Crest this time, Din kept a firm, soothing hold on the little bundle on his chest.

“It’s okay _ad’ika_. I don’t think we were gonna find that converter here anyway.”


	4. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump Day 6: Insomnia
> 
> After leaving Corvus, Grogu just. won't. sleep. Din does his best.
> 
> Takes place between Ep. 13 & 14.

Darkness… he could feel darkness coming. It smothered his senses, pierced the peace he’d held in his heart. It was hard to breathe... Grogu opened his eyes. Soft, yellow light was filtering through the windows of the temple. The world was quiet, muffled. He couldn’t hear Sors or Whie. Looking up, he saw crèche master Anoona standing in the doorway. Her aura glowed as it always did, and Grogu cooed happily to see her. Master Anoona smiled at him serenely.

“It’s time for your classes, little one.” She said, holding out a hand. He tilted his head curiously. The hand reaching out was leather gloved with orange fingertips and gleaming silver on the wrist. _Home_... the Force whispered to him. 

Grogu was beside her then, waddling down the halls of the temple. The air was heavy, dust motes drifting in the colored sunlight that spilled through stained glass. Untroubled, he looked up at her towering form, watching her long mauve lekku wave as they walked. As usual, his eyes were drawn to the shining metal at her hip. It glinted in the soft light and he felt a burst of excitement. He wanted one. It was shiny and smooth and one day he’d be able to just… reach it…

He stopped abruptly, ears dropping flat against his head. _Darkness_ was coming… the feeling returned. It filled him with dread, paralyzing him with fear. He and Anoona stood in front of the class chamber now… he could see his crèchemates inside, practicing with their own shiny sticks. Master Drallig stood there, arms crossed silently. 

The dread seized him. Couldn’t they feel the darkness? Couldn’t _anyone_ feel it? Grogu reached up fearfully, cooing and trying to make them understand. Usually the masters could _understand_ him… why weren’t they _listening?_ Anoona just smiled down at him. Draalig was talking to the other children and Grogu couldn’t understand why they didn’t run! He was scared, he was _scared_. 

He wanted to leave. He didn’t want to be here anymore, with the dark feeling encroaching like some stalking monster. He wanted his hammock, he wanted to go _home_ -

_... a fleeting memory of metal and cloth, the smell of blaster scoring, strong arms..._

\- but Grogu found he couldn’t move. His fear swelled. 

And suddenly, _the darkness was there_. 

It pooled into the room, soaking it in a cloying, dripping hate, a hate so black that it ate up all the light. A red glow flashed. He tried to run but he was frozen in fear. Cooing and crying pitifully Grogu bent into a ball on the ground and tried to cover his face with his hands, but red light flared hot and he looked up, only to see Master Anoona impaled, a crimson blade protruding from her chest. She fell to the floor before him, her wide, shocked eyes finding his. A sanguine blaze slashed behind her and Drallig’s head rolled between them, a horrific expression frozen on his face. Grogu only closed his eyes and cried harder. 

_The darkness was coming for him_. 

It had hate in its heart and piercing, yellow eyes. It was shadow and pain and loss. Grogu could feel it, _he could feel it_. Hands over his eyes, he could hear the screams and cries of his crèchemates. The gurgle of Sors dying on the ground. The sounds of the temple burning around him. The howling of the Force. He cried and cried and clenched his eyes shut and feared.

Suddenly, a humming sound, terrifyingly close.

“Found you,” whispered a low, sinister voice. 

* * *

The sudden, loud wailing startled Din out of his sleep like a lightning bolt. Jerking upright on his cot, he had his blaster in his hand in a split second, body tense and aiming at the closed door of their bunk space. Confused and still half asleep, Din kept his blaster trained on the door as he shuffled hurriedly towards the hammock where the child lay squalling, little tri-digit hands pressed against his eyes as he cried. 

“Kid?!” Din asked breathlessly, heart in his throat. Sitting up on his knees, Din could see into the hammock and urgently used his free hand to reach in and press against the kid's chest, feeling around and checking him for injuries. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary... other than the kid’s scrunched, weeping face as he hiccuped and bawled.

Realizing that there wasn’t a threat in the ship, Din released a short, relieved breath and tossed his gun onto the bed so that he could reach up with both hands to pull the little body out of the hammock. The toddler didn’t resist, body curled into a ball, still keening high pitched cries. Din cradled the little bundle in his arms, frantically bouncing him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kid. G-Grogu, I’ve got you bud.” He still wasn’t used to using the kid’s name, and it was with some amazement that he realized he could actually use it… _his name_. The toddler opened his wet eyes just enough to look up at Din, reaching for the man desperately.

Face crumpling in sympathy, Din sat back on the bed and scooted back until his back wedged against the durasteel wall. He pressed the kid’s face into his shoulder, holding him close as he gently rocked him, trying to soothe him. His own racing heart was finally starting to slow.

“You have another nightmare?” He murmured sympathetically, then frowned. “Musta been a real bad one this time...”

As alarming as it was, this wasn’t the first time the kid had woken him like this. Ever since they’d left Corvus, the child hadn’t been sleeping well… or at all, really. It was a 5 day trip at least to Typhon, and Din had hoped to enjoy his last days with the little one as best he could, but it seemed the universe couldn’t even give him that. 

Since they’d entered hyperspace, Grogu had been quiet, moody and wouldn’t go down for naps or bedtime at night. At first Din thought the kid was just being stubborn, upset that Din wanted him to go with the Jedi. But after a few frantic awakenings where the kid dropped from the hammock to curl beside him, weeping softly or woke Din to the sound of whimpers as the kid blubbered into his blanket, Din realized there might be something else going on.

What had the woman said? That the kid had been raised in some Jedi temple… that he’d been taken from there, that his memories turned dark… Din didn’t know what the kid had gone through, but considering the sorrow he’d see in Ahsoka’s face when she shared that memory, he figured it had to be bad. Maybe sharing his story with Ahsoka had dredged up memories better left forgotten…

Understanding what the kid was trying to escape, Din couldn’t blame the boy for his insomnia, but it had been nearly four days now, and both of them had barely slept. It was starting to wear on each of them. 

By the fourth night, Din was about ready to collapse, feeling shaky and irritable from lack of sleep. He was determined to try anything. Armor and helmet set off to the side, the dressed down Mandalorian had heated up synth-milk for the babe and rocked him in his hammock. When that didn’t work, he’d looked up children’s stories on the holonet and read them to Grogu, who’d cooed tiredly, but refused to drop off. Finally, he’d hefted the kid up into his arms and started pacing back and forth across the ship’s cargo pay, humming low and gently bouncing as he walked.

Something about the repetitive movement must have finally lulled the kid into settling down. After over an hour of pacing, the child had dropped off into what looked like a deep sleep, a little fist curling into Din’s undershirt. Breathing shakily with nervousness, the man had carefully extracted the toddler, setting him gently into his hammock and waiting with bated breath to see if the child would wake. When he didn’t, Din had sighed deeply and all but collapsed onto his bunk, dropping into an exhausted sleep immediately.

Unfortunately, the rest hadn’t lasted long.

Din sighed and shook his head, feeling the burning behind his eyes that hadn’t abated. They couldn’t have been asleep more than a couple hours, and already the child was awoken by nightmares. His muscles twitched and stiffened. _Maker_ , he just wanted to _sleep_ … an equally tired coo sounded mournfully from the bundle in his arms.

Curling his aching body protectively over Grogu, Din dropped his head softly to the child’s wrinkled forehead, pulling his knees up so that the child was cocooned in his lap. He sighed through his nose, warm breath washing over the little one.

“ _Ad’ika_ …” the man whispered softly, “ _ner ad’ika_ , I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

The child sniveled and moaned a low warbling sound, reaching a hand up to brush tiny claws against Din’s cheek. Leaning back, Din saw large black eyes blinking up at him, glistening with tears. The crying had begun fading and hiccuping into low whimpers as the child calmed. Din stared down at him, arms tightening around the robes, feeling the little body press into his, clutching at his undershirt. His breath hitched, forming a lump in his throat.

A soft coo sounded up at him, questioning, hesitant. He swallowed around the lump.

“Yeah, kid, I’m here." He managed, earnestly. "I’m not going anywhere." The man frowned and pressed his nose to the soft head, thinking.

"Whatever… whatever you’re seeing in there, it’s not real, okay? You’re safe with me, I promise.” A soft warble sounded sadly as the kid buried his little green face into the man’s neck again. Din sighed wearily.

“You _gotta_ try to get some sleep, pal. We both do… we gotta be ready for whatever is waiting for us on Tython.”

At the sound of the planet, an indignant, muffled burble filtered up from the boy. 

“Bawawah, bato.”

“ _Ad’ika_ , you saw what the nice lady could do - she’s like you. That’s your kind, the Jedi. I- I can’t train you… you deserve to be with someone who can help you grow, help you learn about your powers. You were raised with the Jedi, weren’t you? Don’t you want to be with them again?”

An angry string of babbling sounded from the child and a little hand smacked against Din’s chest, like he was angry. Din sighed again.

“You’ll understand one day, kid.” He whispered sadly, rocking the little form gently. “You’ll look back and see that this was the best thing, that I did it for you.” 

A soft whimper sounded below him and Din squeezed his arms, resting his cheek against the small head again and breathing in the smell of the little body that he’d come to know so well. The man closed his eyes and wished that there was some other way… 

_But there wasn’t._ This was The Way. He tried to harden his heart at the thought, but instead, he felt it crack. Swallowing back the dread, he implored again. 

“In the meantime, you need to sleep, Grogu, _please_. And so do I. This has gone on for days, you’ve gotta be exhausted…” A tired mewl seemed to agree with him.

“Alright then, let’s try again, okay?” Uncurling stiffly, Din shuffled on his knees with the toddler in his arms, still clinging to him, towards the little hammock. He looked down. “C’mon kid, time to sleep for real.”

Just as he went to pull the child away, the kid let out a shrieking bawl, stubby arms scrabbling for Din’s neck. Jumping at the sound Din nearly dropped the kid and clutched him back to his chest quickly, a pulse of adrenaline washing through him at the near fumble. 

“Shh, shhh! Hey, hey,” He tried to quiet the kid, who only clutched at him harder. He felt his stomach drop at the keening sounds, both in defeat and worry. “What’s going on, kid? You don’t want your hammock?”

The little head shook against his chest, sniffling sadly.

Well, there was nothing for it then. He didn’t usually let the kid sleep beside him, both because he didn’t want to roll over onto him and also because it felt too… dangerous. He was already so attached… how was he ever going to give up the kid if he slept beside him every night? But the kid wasn’t having it, and Din was _exhausted_. Sod the rules, they desperately, _desperately_ needed sleep. 

Sighing in defeat, Din slumped back to his bed, the kid cradled securely to his chest.

“Alright, _ad’ika_ ," he croaked. "you win. You win. Let’s get some sleep, okay? I’ll be right here.”

Settling back down on the thin mattress, Din looked up at the gray durasteel ceiling, feeling utterly spent. The small ball of warmth against his chest snuggled into him and cooed softly, sounding content for the first time in days. Din breathed out a shaky breath, feeling his heart swell with affection that he tried to trample down, but just couldn’t. Tears pricking at the edges of his eyes, he wondered how many more nights like this he had with the kid… Gingerly, he cupped both palms over the small bundle of robes, holding the boy to him securely.

“I’m here, Grogu, I’ve got you… go to sleep, buddy… go to sleep…” He murmured in what he hoped was a low soothing voice, only to hear soft little snores already sounding from the small form. His eyes fluttered closed. _Thank kriff_. 

Listening to the little snores, feeling the rise and fall of kid’s breathing… a small, wry smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth. He was out in moments.

* * *

Soft, yellow light filtered into the room and shone through Grogu’s eyelids. He opened his eyes. He was in the crèche, his crèchemates nowhere to be seen. He tensed. He knew his scene. Tranquility would be overtaken by darkness… he started to feel afraid...

Dropping over the edge of his cot, he landed lightly on the floor and started to waddle-run out of the crèche, hoping he could escape the darkness this time. The hallways were empty. Sounds of clashing far off reached his ears and he stopped, ears drooping with fear. He didn’t know what to do... Where was Master Anoona? Where was Master Yoda? Why was he all alone? Starting to cry, Grogu curled in on himself, wrapping his tiny hands over his head. _Alone. Lost. Scared._

He could feel the darkness coming for him, like it always did. It was close... No! No-

“ _Grogu._ ”

A strong, deep voice spoke. It filled him with warmth. All the other scary sounds had fallen away. Uncurling his arms from his head, Grogu’s ears perked up and he opened his eyes. Before him was a man in shining silver armor. He was kneeling and holding out a hand. Familiar leather gloves with orange fingertips and gleaming silver wristbands reached out to him. _Home. Safe. Father._

“I’ve got you, kid.” The man said. His father said. It filled the space around him. The voice was confident, unwavering. Nothing could hurt him when he was with father. Nothing could scare his father, not even the darkness. Grogu ran into the man’s waiting arms and the moment they enclosed around him the darkness disappeared, the temple disappeared. All he could feel was _warmth, love, safet_ y.

“I’ve got you, _ad’ika_.” The voice said.

* * *

Curled up against the Mandalorian, rising and falling with each deep, slow breath, Grogu slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, I know I'm SUPER late with this update - not to mention that I skipped prompts #4 and #5 (for now). I promise, I WILL add those too, but #6 just flowed out a lot faster. 
> 
> This is my first time doing a prompt month like this - I work full time for a tech company, and I didn't realize how challenging doing a fic per day would really be, timing-wise. Now I understand why they post the prompts so far in advance... I should have started writing these ages ago, but I'm an idiot, LOL. #4, 5 & 8 are half written, and I have the beginnings of the rest. Long story short, Febuwhump is going to be a challenge but I am **determined** to finish all 28 prompts, even if it means I don't finish until March (*sob*). I may not post these in the correct order or on time, but I'll be doing **my best**. X_X 
> 
> I love and appreciate all the kudos and comments, THANK YOU ALL for reading. <3


	5. Poisoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump prompt day #7: Poisoning
> 
> Din and Grogu take a short vacation planetside to stretch their legs, only to find that even the most innocent of places can be dangerous...

Wandering through the lush forest, Din took a deep breath and paused for a moment just to take in his surroundings. Orange light dappled through the tree canopy above to wash the forest floor with a soft light, the colors warming as the binary suns began to set. He looked from green foliage to blue bark moss to bright red and purple flowers… the vegetation around him starkly contrasted the dull grays of his ship. The change in scenery was refreshing. 

Soft trills of excitement from below told him the kid felt the same. He glanced down and watched the child waddle awkwardly to catch up with him, stepping confidently with short strides over sticks and rocks, kicking at little piles of dead leaves as he went. 

Din could hear the muted rustle of wildlife around them. Occasionally during their trek, he would tap on his thermal sensor to scan their surroundings, but thus far he’d only seen harmless game animals dart across his viewfinder, scurrying away from them. For the first time in a long time, the man felt almost… relaxed. 

A bright red six winged insect fluttered across their path then. The child squealed in delight, reaching up with too short arms to try and capture it. It easily evaded his grasp and the little one ran after it, attempting clumsy little jumps as it caught air and soared higher, just out of reach. 

Din smirked. It was good for the kid to get out and stretch his legs like this. He knew they couldn’t stay long, but the antsy cabin fever building in the kid had been palpable, making itself known in loud, _messy_ ways... Din could admit that the last few weeks had been rough on them: stilted stops planetside for supplies that had often ended in a rushed escape offworld; long hauls through hyperspace as he followed rumors to faraway planets when he heard whispers of Mandalorians, only to find nothing. The kid had been getting restless, and to be honest, he was enjoying the break just as much.

They’d been on this moon a couple of days already, Din hunting and foraging fresh meals for them each day, showing the child how to set traps and follow tracks. He figured the child wasn’t old enough to remember any of this, but it felt good to teach him, and the kid seemed to enjoy listening to him talk.

It wasn’t just the two of them, alone, unfortunately. The dwarf moon he’d stumbled upon had no major space ports or towns, the population sparse and scattered - a real backwater skughole, just like Sorgan had been, but smaller. There were farming homesteads speckled around however. Din had made sure to land their ship miles from the nearest structure he could see, hoping to avoid the locals, but he figured they only had a few more days before someone came looking for the ship that couldn't be missed flying overhead. Watching the kid pounce on another colorful insect, Din wished distantly that they had more time...

The soft sound of a stream burbling off in the distance caught his ear through the helmet’s audio processors. 

“Hey, kid,” He called, catching the little one’s attention just as he’d been crouching over and lifting up a rock to see the little bugs beneath it scurrying away. Pointed ears twitched at him, tiny teeth visible through the child’s little grin. Din’s smirk softened into a genuine smile at the kid’s curiosity. “I hear a stream up ahead, let’s head that direction.” 

He pointed with a leather gloved hand towards the sound. The child’s head cocked to the side and he let the rock fall back to the forest floor, tottering after his caretaker. The child babbled nonsensical gibberish up at the armored man as they walked, peppered with little trills of exuberance.

“Oh yeah?” The man responded good-naturedly, “You don’t say.” He brushed a long fern leaf out of his way, making sure to hold it for the kid to pass before letting it fall back.

When they reached the stream, Din turned on his thermal sensor and looked left and right, examining their surroundings cautiously. When he saw no threats or other life signs, he removed his helmet and set it carefully on a stone by the small river. Crouching down, he darted out a hand to grasp the kid’s arm just as he was tottering towards the water. 

“No!” 

“Mueh?” The little head looked back at him innocently. Still holding onto the boy, Din waggled his other index finger at him, pointing at the stream.

“ _Ad’ika,_ you have to be careful. Don’t go too near the water’s edge. We don’t want you falling in.”

The child didn’t acknowledge any sort of understanding, but neither did he move closer to the water. Instead, the kid noticed a bright blue frog sitting by the stream’s bank a ways away and started waddling towards it, squealing happily. The Mandalorian just shook his head, but made a mental note to keep a close eye on the little womp rat. He didn’t fully trust him not to just waddle straight in.

Enjoying the fresh air on his face, Din closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the raw bouquet of the forest. The woodsy scent of shed bark and dead brush making up the loam on which they walked… the tangy scent of unfamiliar blooms… the weight of moisture in the air as the stream kicked up a soft spray, tumbling over jagged rocks. A gentle breeze pulled at his dark hair. 

It was peaceful here. Eyes falling to the child that hopped after the frog, his heart ached guiltily, wishing that he could give him something like this more… permanently. He’d tried to, on Sorgan. But then the bounty hunter had arrived… he supposed it hadn’t been meant to be. Maybe one day, when they finally found the Jedi, the kid could have… something. Someplace like this. A home. He didn’t know, but he hoped, for the kid’s sake.

Smiling sadly as he watched the little green figure bundled in oversized brown robes hop and play, Din reached down and pulled out his canteen, crouching beside the stream to fill it up with fresh water. 

Angling his head the other direction to glance upstream, a white flash caught his eye. He stood, tucking the canteen back onto his belt and narrowed his eyes. It looked like fur… glancing back at the child he noticed that the kid was dangerously close to the stream edge.

“ _Ad’ika_!” Rushing to his side, Din bent over to pull the kid bodily away from the crumbling edge. Looking down, he saw the little green face crane up to look at him. Their eyes met and the child just giggled happily. Din frowned. “What did I tell you, womp rat, don’t get near the water.” He sighed and hefted the toddler into the crook of his left arm. 

“I think I found something interesting anyway. You want to come see?” The kid was already clapping his hands and babbling as Din made his way towards the flash of white between green leaves. Crouching down to one knee, Din used his free hand to push away the branches, revealing the remains of what looked like an ash-rabbit.

“Hm, it’s already dead," he mused aloud, "and looks fresh. Maybe we actually got lucky for once. What do you think, kid? Want ash-rabbit for dinner?” 

Surprisingly, the child was squirming in his grip now, warbling sadly, pointing at the dead hare. 

“What, you don’t want it?” The kid angled his head up at the man, one long ear squishing against his chest plate. Owlish black eyes blinked at him, tiny nose scrunched. The kid smacked his hands against Din’s glove, clearly upset. Din cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. 

“Uh, okay, guess you don’t like ash-rabbit. Well, more for me.” He sighed. “We still have some gallaze meat left from yesterday, I suppose. You can have that, alright?” 

Still, the child made urgent, sad noises and slapped at his arm, pointing at the animal carcass. Din shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know what’s upsetting you, kid, I’m sorry. Listen, you don’t have to look at it, okay?”

He stood and eyed a stone by the stream where yellow and red spotted frogs sat, croaking. Striding over to it, the bounty hunter deposited the child a few feet away, gently pushing the youngling towards them. Immediately, the bright colored frogs grabbed the toddler’s attention and he launched himself at them, easily catching one in his clawed grip with a vibrating trill of victory.

Shaking his head, Din turned and grabbed his helmet, then made his way back to collect the ash-rabbit, wrapping it carefully in his hunting cloth before tying it to the rifle strap on his back. 

Well, that was one less thing he had to do today.

* * *

The rest of their day had been leisurely, following the stream a ways until they found a man-made dam stunting its flow. Din figured they were nearing one of the farms now, and ushered the kid back the direction they’d come, following the stream back through the forest towards the Razor Crest. 

The child at some point demanded to be picked up, tired from a full day of romping through the forest, and Din had easily acquiesced. He was actually pretty proud of the boy for lasting as long as he had. The toddler kept nodding off as they walked but Din would bump him awake gently with a little heft here or a tap on the cheek there. Napping just before dinner always led to a long night, and one major benefit of all the exercise that came with their time planetside was that the kid had been dropping off to sleep without a problem the last two nights. He didn’t want to break their streak.

Arriving back to the little camp he’d set up just outside the Crest’s open bay door, he set the child down on the stump beside the fire pit, watching little fists rub groggy eyes with a small smirk on his lips as he lit the kindling in the stone circle.

Then, he’d set to work skinning the ash-rabbit with his blade and spearing it on a spoke to place over the fire. He’d glanced back at the kid as he worked, wondering if he’d react. But despite throwing such a fit about the rabbit earlier, the youngling seemed tired enough that he barely noticed now, eyes squinting and blinking into the crackling fire. His tiny mouth stretched open in a yawn and Din couldn’t help the amused smile twisting the corner of his mouth up.

Letting the rabbit cook, Din fished out a chunk of the gallaze meat he’d stored from the day before, giving it its own spoke over the fire, then rotated the poles, patiently. 

The smell of cooking meat quickly woke the kid up, ears flicking up with interest as he blinked away his sleepiness. Glancing up at the man sat on the crate beside him, wide eyes fully awake now, he pointed at the fire, chirping hungrily.

“I know, kid, it’s almost ready.” The helmet angled down at the kid. “You know, you did good today. You didn’t wander off, you caught some frogs, and you walked almost the whole day. So, I cut a big portion for you.”

A contented trill sounded as the child babbled at him some more. Din gave him a gentle pat on his little back and long ears twitched up happily. Removing his helmet, Din gingerly set it on the crate beside him and glanced down at the youngling, smiling minutely when the little face brightened. Seeing his face always seemed to perk the kid up... 

Despite them being alone together most of the time, and despite the fact that he’d performed the adoption vow months ago now, Din still wasn’t used to taking his helmet off. It left him feeling naked, vulnerable… but there was an equal joy at seeing the kid with his own two eyes, at holding the little body up to his cheek… He still only removed his helmet rarely… but he was trying to remember to do it more, when it was just the two of them. They were learning, together.

Reaching forward, Din pulled the child’s meal out of the fire, peeling it off the spoke and onto a waiting plate. Cutting it into small pieces, he added a handful of the greens they’d foraged earlier that day, then handed the small plate to the youngling, who eagerly gripped it on his lap. 

Cooing happily, the child reached for a piece of gallaze and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing contentedly. Din shook his head.

“Go slow, _ad’ika_ , it’s still hot.” But the kid didn’t listen and the temperature of the meat didn’t seem to bother him, so the man shrugged and reached for his own spoke with the rabbit, now blackened around the edges. Not bothering with a plate Din blew on the sizzling skewer, then pulled a piece of meat from the rabbit’s hind leg, examining it for a moment to ensure it was cooked. Just as he was about to pop it into his mouth, the kid suddenly shrieked and Din jerked in surprise, nearly dropping his meal. 

“What the-'' Gaze whipping sharply to the kid, the man saw that the boy had toppled his own little plate to the floor, meat and greens now mingled with the dirt. The child had rushed to the edge of his stump reaching for Din and making urgent high-pitched sounds. Din’s brows were nearly at his hairline.

“Kid- what-” He looked down at the meat in his hands then back at the reaching arms. “I thought you didn’t want any rabbit?” Wondering what the heck the kid was so upset about, he extended the strip of cooked hindmeat to the boy, offering it to him. “Did you want to try som-”

Before he could even finish his sentence the kid had slapped the meat out of his hand so that it, too, dropped to the dirt floor.

“Hey!” Din admonished, spluttering. “No! Bad! That’s our meal, kid. What the heck has gotten into you?”

The child just babbled at him, ears flopping up and down, arms gesturing and sounding very upset. Din’s frown deepened and he sighed.

“You were doing so well today, too… Kid, you can’t just ruin your meal and expect there to be more. If you don’t want meat, then you get rations.” The man huffed in irritation. “And I’ll get it for you after I’m done. You can’t act like this, alright?” 

The kid’s ears had dropped low and he was warbling pitifully now. Din tried to stay firm. The boy was usually so well behaved… but he knew that he couldn’t ignore bad behavior when it happened. As tough as it was to discipline the kid, it wasn’t the first time he’d had to do it, for his own safety.

Shaking his head, the man turned back to his meal, peeling off another hunk of meat. This time, when he tried to eat it, the kid full out screamed, flinging out a short claw that caused the piece he’d been holding and the entire ash-rabbit, spoke and all, to go flying across the clearing. Din launched to his feet in surprise, then glared down at the toddler, truly angry now.

“ _Kid!_ What is going **_on_ ** with you?” Towering over the little figure with a stern expression on his face, brows furrowed, the child whimpered and curled in on himself. Dropping to a crouch in front of the little huddled figure, Din fixed him with a hard stare. 

“ _Ad’ika_. That was **_not_ ** nice. You just ruined both our meals. What’s with the attitude, huh?” The boy warbled sadly and curiosity started bleeding into his ire. Din's brain started churning, watching the youngling sniffle miserably. “You’ve never used your powers on me like that before…” He continued, trailing off, unsure if he was asking a question or accusing the kid now…

Suddenly, Din heard a loud rustle and immediately stood to shield the kid, replacing his helmet with one hand as his vibroblade appeared in the other instantly. Flicking on his head lamp, the far edge of their camp illuminated to reveal a crait-fox ripping into the cooked ash-rabbit. Yellow eyes darted up at them and the fox growled as it chomped away, but it didn’t stop eating. 

Well, the meal was well and truly lost now. Din’s shoulders slumped tiredly, his stance relaxing. He didn’t sheathe his blade or move from his position shielding the child, though. It may only be a crait-fox, which were generally harmless forest scavengers, but the kid was small too… small enough to be prey, and despite his large presence, scavengers were sometimes willing to take the risk. He’d keep his headlamp trained on the animal until it had its fill and left, just to be sure. A soft coo sounded beside him as the toddler pushed his cloak aside to peek around it, curious about the animal. Din didn’t dare glance down, as the light was attached to his helmet. Keeping the fox in his sight kept him in control. The kid warbled again, sadly this time. 

And then... an awful hacking, choking sound erupted from the fox. It wheezed and coughed, the sound painful and wet. Din grimaced, but couldn’t look away. It was mercifully quick… after only a few minutes of horrific whines mingled between retching gags, the fox stumbled to its forepaws, then slumped to the side, still. 

* * *

Din stood silently, stunned. The child behind him had also gone quiet. After a long, frozen minute, the man shook himself.

Taking a moment to scan their surroundings warily, Din didn’t see any other heat signatures… if the fox was traveling without a pack, that would explain its desperation for food...

Holding a hand out behind him, motioninging to the child to remain where he was, the bounty hunter tread up to the body, approaching slowly. When he reached it and angled his headlamp down, he realized the caution had been needless. The animal was clearly dead, tongue lolled out of its mouth and eyes glazed, but otherwise intact, no obvious wounds... Just as the ash-rabbit had looked… 

Crouching down, Din pushed the fox’s body aside to examine the cooked rabbit. It was nearly half eaten already, the corpse shredded brutally. Picking up a small piece of meat, he held it up to his viewfinder and flicked through his helmet’s settings until he saw the flash of a chemical compound being identified on his HUD. 

_Cyano-bromethalin._

“Poison…” Din whispered to himself, shocked. The poison wasn’t exactly rare… bromethalin was used commonly to control pests, but the cyano compound would make the poison ultra powerful… and fast acting. Looking down at the remains of the ash-rabbit, Din guessed it had wandered too close to the farm, been attracted to bait for pests, then died out in the forest. It must have eaten quite a lot for the concentration he was seeing… concentrated enough that the next creature to eat it perished on the spot.

Just like he would have… if he’d eaten it. 

Dropping the meat and wiping his glove on his cloak, Din flicked off his headlamp and stood, staring down at the still body in the dark shadow of their camp’s edge a moment longer. His mind reeled.

 _The kid_ … the kid had been trying to tell him.. had _known,_ somehow. But _how?!_

The Mandalorian took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm his tumbling thoughts. Regardless, the kid had saved him… again. Stepping aside, he looked back at their campfire. The child was sitting there on his little stump, watching him silently. Firelight danced in his wide, glassy eyes. 

Clenching his jaw, Din strode back to the kid, then dropped to a knee in front of him, removing his helmet. Their eyes met, the toddler fidgeting nervously with his robe. Watching him, a small smirk flicked up the corner of his mouth before it fell again. Reaching up, the man took the diminutive clawed hands in his fingertips, holding them still. He looked at them, rubbing a thumb over the back of one little hand before he finally looked back up, heart unexpectedly lodged in his throat.

Again… again, they’d come so close to tragedy. He felt shaken, but not as shaken as the kid looked, wilted before him. That wouldn’t do.

“I’m... sorry I yelled at you, _ad’ika_.” The child shook his tiny head, ears flopping, but Din squeezed his fingers gently. 

“No, kid, I was wrong. You were trying to tell me something, and I didn’t listen. I didn’t… I didn’t know that you could… know things like that.” He sighed then, and chuckled softly.

“But I suppose I should have guessed.” He brought up a knuckle to cuff a little cheek softly, voice low and sincere. “Thank you, _ad’ika_. You saved me. Again.”

Finally, the kid’s face angled up to look at him, mouth wobbling. Little arms reached up for him.

“Oh, buddy.” Din sighed, scooping up the child into his arms and curling him tight against his chest as little sniffles sounded from his neck. “I’m okay.” He murmured, rising from his knee to settle on the stump where the kid had stood, settling the boy in his lap. He just held the little form as the toddler stifled whimpers, trying not to cry. Gently patting the narrow back as the kid quieted down, Din watched the fire crackle, thinking grimly about all the things he _didn’t_ know about his ward’s mysterious powers…

Eventually, he felt the little bundle of robes shifting against him, and he pulled the boy away so that he could look him over. The kid’s eyes were still wide and wet, but he looked calmer now. 

“See? Everything’s okay.” 

A soft babble and coo sounded, and then the kid was pointing down at the ground, where the remains of his ruined meal still sat in the dirt by Din’s boot. Din followed his gaze and sighed, looking back at the kid with a sardonic twist of his mouth. Seeing that the man wasn’t angry, the kid’s mood seemed to lift.

“Right. Whaddaya say we we eat vegetarian tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I know this one isn't really whump, it's literally just like, Dad!Din, being a parent... doing parent stuff... with a *splash* of angst.
> 
> For the prompt "Poisoning" I really could have cranked any number of super whumpy tropes to torture our favorite characters, and maybe I still will, but for some reason, this is what my brain really wanted to write. *shrug* So I went with it.
> 
> Maybe not my best chapter so far, but I had fun with it. I just love these two way too much.


	6. Buried Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump prompt #9 - Buried Alive
> 
> Takes place after Ep. 16. 
> 
> Din and the Nite Owls are scouting the city of Keldabe on Mandalore when an abandoned, dilapidated building collapses on the crew...

Din groaned, consciousness returning slowly. It felt like swimming up through a deep, heavy blackness… sensation fading in and out as he came to. 

Sound filtered through his audio processors… the creaking and crumbling of stone, the clink-tap of little rocks tumbling down around him. It all sounded so close... and yet far away at the same time… 

Humming out a choked breath, the Mandalorian realized that his chest _hurt…_ and that his legs were pinned under something… He tried to shift his body and was only able to twist to the side until his knee complained violently. Panting, he flopped back down onto his back. Groggily opening his eyes, a shaft of light pierced through his t-visor and he sucked in a breath at the stabbing pain that erupted behind his eyes. Clenching them shut again, the man threw an armored hand over his helmet and simply laid there, body tense, cataloguing what hurt and trying to remember what happened.

 _Flashes of a flickering dome, swirling sand…_ Keldabe. 

He was in Keldabe with Bo-Katan and her Nite Owls… they’d… that’s right, they’d taken refuge in a dilapidated building as the sandstorm hit. Bo-Katan had shouted over their comms that she was going back to the control center to re-engage the protective dome. Holding their ground in the building, Din had stayed with Koska and Axe as the sandstorm raged. Then… the sound.

The crack and groan of the building had been barely audible over the storm, but to the three Mandalorians it felt deafening. Looking up, a haunting gap had appeared in the ceiling above them, splintering wider by the second. Shouting at the others to retreat out the front, the three had barely risen from their crouched positions when the ground beneath their feet shifted, the entire building collapsing around them. Din had tried to reach for Koska but her hand had slipped out of his just as he was smashed backwards by crumbling duracrete and stone. 

He didn’t remember much after that, besides waking up. 

The sounds around him had calmed considerably… The sandstorm must have passed, but the vacuum of sound only made every creak and grind of stone around him echo like a blaster shot. Gritty dust filled the air, and when Din tried opening his eyes again, he could see the evening light reflected on the floating particles. It looked like the air above him glowed…

Blinking slowly, Din wondered if he was concussed.

He cleared his throat roughly, gravelly voice crackling through their helmet comms. 

“Axe… Koska… do you copy?” 

Silence. Din grimaced, eyes clenching closed. _T_ _ _h_ ey might not be dead. They’re just still unconscious. _ He repeated that to himself a couple times.

Well, he was no use to anyone buried here, if he wanted to check on the other Mandalorians, he had to get himself out.

Taking stock of himself again, Din pushed off the blocks of stone on his chest and was able to shift himself up onto his elbows. There was a gap in the crumbled building above his head that extended up to a far away window. Otherwise, there were huge chunks of the building that had fallen all around him. Luckly, his beskar seemed to have protected him from being utterly crushed… but looking down, a cracked and mottled stone pillar was pinning his legs. Its ornate moulding was keeping the pillar from falling flush against the floor, which was the only reason why he hadn't been crippled. 

Wiggling his toes in his boots, Din let out a harsh breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he confirmed he could still feel his feet. _Thank kriff._ Everything was sore, but there wasn’t any unbearable pain… he was just pinned. 

For a few minutes he tried pulling and shifting, but to no avail. Unless he wanted to break both his ankles to free his heavy boots, he was well and truly stuck. 

He tried his comms again.

“Koska… Axe… Bo-Katan… come in.” Moments of silence passed and Din bowed his head, a wave of anger and sorrow invading his thoughts. Then, then comms crackled. 

_Kshhhhh._

“Din? Din, are you in there?” Bo-Katan. Din’s breath whipped back in.

“I’m here.” He rushed out. “I’m here, in the rubble. The building-”

“I know, I can see it.” Came the curt reply. She hesitated. “Did- are Reeves and Woves with you?” Din tilted his helmet down in grief, despite knowing the woman couldn’t see it.

“No. We… got separated. The building came down too fast, we couldn’t get out in time.” He paused. “They aren’t answering my hails.”

“Mine either.” Came the tight voice. As much as Bo-Katan wanted everyone to believe she was a hardened battle machine, he knew she cared about her team. Koska and Axe had been regaling him with stories of their time together, the years spent fighting off the Empire as the Nite Owls…

He sighed. 

“Are you hurt?” Came the voice again. Din considered the question. Besides his headache and his chest, which would abate with time, he wasn’t injured.

“Not especially, no.” He finally responded. “But I’m pinned under something. I’ve tried to get out, but” he tried again, pulling at his legs with a grunt and only stopping when he felt something in his ankle pop. He grit his teeth, voice strained. “that’s not happening.”

A moment of silence passed, he heard shuffling outside, then the entire building groaned loudly and the shuffling stopped.

“This structure is fragile… if I try to come to you, I could bring it the rest of the way down. Din, can you reach your weapons?”

The man glanced down, twisting awkwardly side to side. Lowering a hand to his hip, he could feel his blaster still in its holster, and the darksaber still clinched to his belt.

“Yeah.” He finally responded breathlessly, grimacing. The movement had _hurt_ , leaving him winded... that must be a cracked or broken rib then. 

“Use the saber.”

Bo-Katan’s voice cut through the haze of his tumbling thoughts. Din froze, thinking he must have heard wrong, and tapped at his helmet to increase the audio volume.

“What?”

“Use the darksaber, _vod_. It can cut through almost anything, certainly stone.”

The man’s helmet clinked against the floor as it fell back heavily and pain pulsed behind his eyes. He shook his head. 

Huh. He hadn’t even thought of that. 

Craning his neck to look down at the silver hilt at his hip, the Mandalorian unclipped it and brought it up to his viewfinder, twisting it between his fingers. He sighed, then took a deep breath and braced himself. 

Pulling up into a sitting position, the pain in his chest throbbed angrily, burning hot and sending waves of gooseflesh across his body. The dust that found its way under his helmet made him cough, the burst of compression shooting lightning bolts of agony across his ribs. The man groaned and curled an arm around his chest, trying his best not to blackout on the spot. 

Sipping small, slow breaths, Din finally felt the agony recede to a dull ache which he pushed down firmly. Locking his eyes on the pillar, he ignited the darksaber, the black blade humming and crackling with white sparks along its length. Leaning forward, trying to ignore the pain, Din thrust the blade into the stone.

With fascination, he watched the rock turn red and molten, the effect expanding the longer he held it. Swiftly pulling the sword back, Din inspected the now-liquid hole in the stone. _Huh._ He tried slashing this time, cutting into the pillar on the right side of his legs. It took him a few tries, but after working the area, the stone had either melted or been cut away enough that it finally crumbled, one heavy piece smashing down to the ground beside him, and the other pressing harder into his shins.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Din quickly went through the same exercise on his left side, until that piece too shattered, and all that was left was fragmented rock on his legs. As soon as the pressure lifted, the man hurried to pull his legs out from under the debris, heaving a relieved sigh. 

“I’m free.” He finally updated through the comm. 

“Well done.” Bo-Katan responded shortly. “Meet me outside. The dome could go down again any minute, we need to retreat to the control room.”

Din paused just as he was clipping the saber back to his belt. His comm sizzled as he breathed, hesitating...

“What about Axe and Koska?” 

He heard the other Mandalorian sigh.

“They’re not responding to hails. They could be anywhere in this wreckage. We don’t have time to dig them out when the dome could go down at any moment. We’ll have to regroup and come back for them.”

Din frowned at that. If they were alive and injured, they could be dead by then...

“They weren’t far from me when the building came down, they must be close.” Turning to step over a large chunk of stone, Din flicked on his thermal sensor. “I’m going to look for them.”

Bo-Katan’s aggravated growl was just audible.

“Din, we don’t have _time_ for this. We have to go repair the dome. If it comes down again, then _all_ is lost.”

The man just kept scanning the rubble, igniting his jetpack to hover over fallen hunks of multi-colored ceiling and walls. He ignored her. The building wasn’t even recognizable now, but he moved towards where he thought he last saw the two Mandalorians. 

“Koska!” He called down into the debris. “Axe!” 

He kept calling out, both loudly and through his comm as he kept scanning, executing a simple grid search of the space.

Then, he heard the faint pounding of beskar on stone.

* * *

Koska had woken first, groggily. Blinking her eyes open, she paused in confusion. She blinked again, to be sure her eyes were actually open. They were… yet it was still pitch black.

_Where was she?_

Labored, whistling breaths sounded beside her, and Koska reached out a glove to pat around the space. She seemed to be in a small pocket of stone… mere inches above her was a solid slab of rock stretched jaggedly across the space. On either side of her by mere feet, broken and ragged layers of duracrete stacked precariously. She could taste dust on her tongue… and blood. The building collapse came back to her in a rush.

Ripping off her helmet, Koska tried to calm her deep, panicked breaths, feeling around the small space desperately, snagging her flight suit on saw-toothed edges of crumbling stone. Coming to the realization that she was thoroughly buried, the Nite Owl fell back against an uneven wall and curled her knees up to her armored chest, eyes clenched closed. She breathed through her nose and out her mouth. In and out. In and out. She had to calm down. If she was trapped in here, then she only had so much air…

Hearing the whistling sound again, the warrior started patting along the dusty floor. After a moment, her glove hit a body… it was warm, and utterly still.

“Axe?” She whispered into the darkness. “Din?”

Feeling up the arm to the pauldron and across the chest, Koska immediately recognized Axe’s _beskar’gam_.

“Axe!” She breathed urgently, shaking his shoulder. The man didn’t respond. His breathing sounded strained and wet… he had to be injured. Though, without being able to see him properly, she couldn’t gauge the full extent of it. Continuing her examination by touch, Koska felt around Axe’s chest up to his helmet, glad to feel that it was still intact, then to his other arm, and down his body. She was stopped abruptly at his stomach, where a jagged chunk of debris pressed down on him. Heart jumping into her throat, she felt desperately around the rock, trying to feel if it penetrated the man… but she couldn’t tell, not through her gloves. Punching the hunk of stone angrily Koska let out a frustrated little scream into the small space.

She _hated_ being trapped. It wasn’t so much the small space as it was that she couldn’t _get out_.

Trapped. Trapped. _Trapped_. The word echoed and circled in her mind as she clenched her fists tightly on top of Axe’s limp body, her breath speeding into small, desperate pants. 

Realizing that she was panicking, Koska grit her teeth hard and shook her head. Scrambling for her helmet, she shoved it back over her head and tapped the comm.

“Din! Bo-Katan! Do you copy?!” Only a soft fizzing that stuttered in and out sounded back at her. Scowling, Koska tore the helmet off and smoothed her hand over the exterior, finding that her antenna had been broken off, an uneven dent right where she knew the comm unit was. To do such damage… whatever had impacted her head would surely have killed her if it hadn’t been for her beskar…

“ _Osik_.”

Swallowing thickly, Koska swore again and tossed the helmet back on the floor before crawling back over to Axe’s body. Gingerly lifting the helmet off his head, she inspected it sightlessly. His antenna had also been torn off, but the comm unit seemed intact. _So_ , she could maybe comm, but without any range. Hoping that the stone wouldn’t interfere, she placed the man’s much larger helmet over her head and thumbed the control manually.

“This is Koska, I repeat, this is Koska. I’m trapped under the collapsed building. Does anyone copy?” Heart dropping, she heard only silence. 

“ _Vode_ ,” she tried again, voice more frantic this time, “ _susulur’ni,_ are you there? Axe is injured, we need immediate evac.” Still only met with silence she punched the ground and growled angrily. “ _Someone_ copy!!”

Ripping her companion’s helmet off her head Koska threw it across the small space in a fit of rage. It clanged loudly against the stone. 

This was kriffing _perfect_. Buried under who knows how much building debris with an injured teammate and no working comms. No way to let Bo-Katan know where they were…

Slumping down beside the still form of her friend, Koska bent a knee up to her chest and rested her cheek on it, one hand resting on Axe’s pauldron. 

Nothing to do but wait then. Or slowly suffocate to death.

* * *

Minutes felt like hours as they slowly ticked by. Abruptly, Koska heard a hacking cough beside her and she hurriedly shuffled to her knees, bending over the stirring form. She placed one hand on his paldron and another on his chest, hoping to ground him as he awoke in the dark.

The coughing trailed away weakly and she heard Axe’s head shift side to side in alarm, then a gloved hand came up to cover her own on his chestplate. 

“Koska?” His voice was rasping, dry with dust.

“I’m here.” She assured him.

“What… what happened?” 

“The building… we were taking shelter from the sandstorm when the dome fell… then the building fell too. It collapsed on us... we’re buried.” Hearing the man’s sharp intake of breath, she pressed down on him gently. “Don’t move. You have something pinning you. We just… we just need to wait for the others to dig us out.”

“Din?”

Koska shook her head, before realizing he couldn’t see her.

“Not here,” was all she knew to say. She didn’t know where the _Mand’alor_ was or if he was even alive. If he wasn’t, she could safely say that his had been the shortest reign of a sole ruler in Mandalorian history. She scoffed, the thought amusing her.

“What?” Axe asked, weakly.

“Nothing.” She murmured, shaking her head again. “Just imagining the heroic way Bo-Katan will manage to save us.”

Axe chuckled, then wheezed. “Think she can lift a whole building?” 

Koska smirked, patting his shoulder. “I guess we’ll see, huh?”

“I hope she… hurries...” his voice murmured between labored gasps, trailing off.

Alarm spiking, Koska was about the smack her teammate awake when she heard the faint sound of jetpack engines and a voice… It sounded far above them... but considering how dense the debris was, she couldn't be sure.

“Axe! Your wish is coming true, brother!” Scrabbling away from the man, Koska followed the sound of the jetpack. 

“Hey! Hey! Down here! Down here!!” She called desperately, hacking a rough cough as dust filled her mouth. The jetpack seemed to grow more distant and her heart dropped. Dropping to the grimy floor, she felt around anxiously until her fingers tangled in the interior of her helmet. Grabbing it firmly by the pointed chin, she started banging it with all her might against the stone slab above them.

“Hey!” She cried again. “We’re down here!”

Axe groaned in pain at the deafening pounding of the beskar on stone that echoed in the small space, but Koska didn’t stop.

Suddenly, the jetpack was just above them. She could hear it, it was closer, it had to be. A faint thud echoed as a vibration more than a sound through the stone…

Then, to her surprise, the rock slab she was pressed against began growing hot. Unsure what to make of that, Koska fumbled backwards and scooted away from the heat until she was flush against Axe’s limp form, she felt him turn his face into her thigh. 

“What’s happening?” He whispered, voice thready and frail.

“I… I don’t know. I think we’re being rescued though.”

Then, for the first time in what felt like ages, Koska could _see_ something. A glowing, orange-red. To her shock, the glow of the molten heat illuminated the stone on the far end of their air pocket, quite literally _melting_ it down onto the dusty floor below, where the liquid stone cooled in little black piles.

A loud, booming _CRACK_ sounded and the stone shattered, collapsing inwards in a shower of crumbling bulwark. Yellow tipped gloves reached in and firmly grasped the edge of the remaining slab and the roar of a jetpack sounded, helping the hands lift the stone away. As the hunk of rock angled away from them, Koska squinted at the orange light that filtered down into their little hollow. She froze.

The sun glinted off of Din’s silver _beskar’gam_ , halo-ing him in light as it spilled in from the window behind him. Aided by his jetpack, he hovered above them, and in his hand hummed the striking black blade of the darksaber. It crackled with power.

“You guys okay?” 

Koska nearly choked in relief to hear the man’s voice. 

“Uh, y-yes...” She responded, eyes wide as she took in the sight above her… the _Mand’alor_... Din’s t-visor angled towards the now unconscious form beside her. Koska glanced down, following his gaze. Now, that she could see, she took in Axe’s bloodied face - his nose was definitely broken - and the alarmingly massive stone that was crushing his midsection. 

“Okay, no, actually. Axe is injured. He’s pinned… we have to get him out.”

Din nodded and touched down gently in the small cavity where they’d been trapped, darksaber still humming ominously at his side. 

Crouching beside them, Din examined the stone that trapped their teammate. Koska followed his stare… The stone was a huge chunk of the building’s ceiling that had collapsed from above them and fallen at an angle into Axe. It had been stopped by the beskar cuirass, but was slowly crushing the man’s insides.

The taller man stood and his silver helmet tilted down to look at her. 

“Are you well enough to lift him?” 

Rising to her feet shakily, Kosha rolled her shoulders and cracked her knuckles, releasing a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m going to cut away the stone and hold it as long as I can. I need you to pull Axe out quickly, then we’ll both carry him out. This whole building is still unstable, so we’ll need to move fast.”

Koska nodded grimly. “Got it.”

Bending to retrieve her helmet, she placed it firmly back over her head, then replaced Axe’s as well. Nodding to Din, she laced her arms under her teammate's and bent her legs into a ready stance. The silver-donned Mandalorian moved to the stone slab and, with a two handed grip, he thrust the darksaber forcefully straight into the rock. Koska couldn’t help when her jaw dropped. She’d never seen a blade do _that_ before.

Watching the stone turn molten red around the blade, Koska waited anxiously. Just as it seemed the stone was going to start melting down towards the supine figure on the floor, Din pulled out the blade and slashed a powerful horizontal strike that shattered through the slab's weakened core. The stone beneath his strike cracked and fragmented, the upper part starting to fall just as Din thrust the blade back into the stone, higher up. 

“Go! Go!” he panted, holding the hunk of rock, but Koska was already pulling. With a grunt she hauled the limp Mandalorian out from under the debris. 

“Got him!” She cried breathlessly. Din wasted no time pulling out the blade and shutting it off in the same motion, gripping it in one hand as he turned and looped his other under Axe’s armpit. 

Without a word, both Mandalorians ignited their jetpacks, launching out of the small hollow with their unconscious teammate gripped between them, the thunderous sound of settling and crumbling stone booming behind them.

Koska breath hitched when they crested the mound of debris in the middle of the collapsed building and escaped out a large hole in the wall.

_They were out. They’d made it out._

And there, standing on the sandy street a safe distance from the building, stood Bo-Katan, hands on her hips.

Landing as gently as they could in tandem, Koska stumbled slightly under Axe’s dead weight. Carefully, she gripped his torso and laid him down on the gritty street, looking him over in concern. He was a bit worse for wear, but nothing that some bacta gel and bacta patches couldn't fix…

“ _Su cuy'gar_.” She heard Bo-Katan intone evenly to the man behind her. “You found them.”

“Yes.” 

Koska could hear the tension in their voices, and wondered what they were fighting about _now_. It didn’t matter, now they had to keep moving. Twisting around while keeping one hand on Axe’s chest, Koska looked up at the gleaming suit of _beskar’gam_ towering over her.

“ _Vor entye_ , _Mand’alor_ , for coming for us.”

Coming to slowly on the ground, Axe must have heard the tail end of what she said because his voice trailed up shakily, exhausted but fervent.

“ _Oya, Mand’alor..._ ”

She heard Din sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, *I promise*, I'm going to come back to the prompt days I've missed. I've got some really REALLY whumpy outlines done for Day 4 (Impaling), Day 8 ("Hey, this is no time to sleep"), I just need to wrap them up (they ended up kinda long). 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this installment though! Some whump to go around for Din, Koska and Axe. Bit of gratuitous Mand'alor!Din being a BAMF. His subjects love and worship him. Love my mandos.
> 
>  **Mando'a translations:**  
>  Keldabe - the old capital of Mandalore (pre-Clone Wars)  
> beskar'gam - Mandalorian full set of armor  
> osik - shit  
> vod - brother/sister  
> vode - brothers/sisters  
> susulur’ni - hear me  
> su cuy'gar - hello (lit. "You're still alive." - which felt appropriate here)  
> vor entye - thank you  
> Mand’alor - sole ruler  
> Oya, Mand’alor - hail the Mand'alor/praise the Mand'alor (oya can mean a lot of things, main emphatic and positive)


	7. “I’m sorry, I didn't know”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Febuwhump prompt #10 - “I’m sorry, I didn't know”
> 
> Post Ep 16, takes place about a week after the last chapter (Buried Alive)
> 
> Din & Bo-Katan have a whisper-fight in the shadow of a dilapidated building in the ghost city of Keldabe, on Mandalore. Koska and Axe watch, amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap isn't really whump, per se, but Din does have a little existential crisis, and Bo-Katan is happy to press his buttons. Some of these prompts inspire me in different ways *shrug*
> 
> I promise I have some truly whumpy chapters almost done, coming soon!

Mandalore’s surface was a lifeless husk of sand and ash. Trekking stealthily through the empty streets of Keldabe, the planet’s ancient capital, Din wondered how Mandalorians ever managed to call this inhospitable wasteland home. Peering out of his visor, his HUD automatically analyzed and tagged weak spots in the dilapidated buildings beside them. They'd already learned how dangerous those could be.

Crumbling stone walls, dusty durasteel doors, broken windows… The silence was deafening, the absence of life palpable. He could see speeders and hover-taxis crippled along the road, some simply on their sides, others clearly crumpled where they fell from the sky. 

He tightened his grip on the rifle in his hands, head panning left to right and back as they walked carefully through the shadows of the buildings. 

While the city may have been evacuated during the Great Purge, the sensors on the light cruiser had detected life forms in the city: likely imperial occupation outposts, still picking the city clean years later. The thought disgusted him, but not as much as it had disgusted Bo-Katan. Or perhaps it had simply seemed so because she’d had her helmet off as they’d scanned the planet from orbit, her twisted scowl on display... 

Abruptly, Bo-Katan threw up a closed fist and the single-file line of armed Mandalorians came to a silent halt. The Nite Owl pulled up a pair of binocs, adjusted the settings, then scanned their surroundings, both immediate and distant. Shoulders slumping with a sigh, she turned to the group, helmet cocking to the side. 

“There are no heat signatures or electro-signatures within the next few miles. We’ve been scouting for hours, let’s take a rest here before we proceed.” She pulled out a small ration bar from one of her waist pouches and tossed it to Koska. “I think I owe you one.” 

The other woman caught the bar easily and nodded, then the three blue armored Mandalorians leaned or sat against the wall of the building, still in its shadow, taking a moment to breathe and rest. Koska sat heavily, removing her helmet and unwrapping the bar, taking a large bite. Axe groaned as he lowered himself to the ground, still healing from his recent injury. He pulled his own rations out of a pounch and took his own bite, grimacing at the taste. Koska smirked at him. Bo-Katan just shook her head, remaining standing as she leaned against the wall.

Din stood in shadow a few feet behind the group, knowing he wouldn’t be able to join them as they ate. After eyeing them as they settled, he turned to survey their surroundings, keeping watch. A moment later, the light slapping of a leather glove on stone sounded behind him and he looked back over. Koska was beckoning at him.

“C’mon, take a seat, Din. We all need the rest. We won’t bite, I promise.” 

Her tone was teasing and Axe snickered. Din ignored them good naturedly. He could tell their demeanor was affectionately prodding, as opposed to the sneering disdain they’d felt for him not long ago. Fighting side-by-side with someone for long enough, regardless of their cultural beliefs, tended to do that to people. Not to mention, he was technically their _Mand’alor_ now, and that had only been cemented when Din expertly used the darksaber to cut the two of them out of a collapsed building only a week ago. 

Instead, Din’s eyes followed the tall spire of a building in front of him until he was looking up at the flickering dome above them. They’d managed to get the bio-dome functioning again when they’d first arrived (and again after it had failed), but it was still by no means stable, which was... concerning, to say the least. But for the last three weeks that they’d been combing through the city, it had held more or less. He looked around himself at the sand dusted streets, the abandoned architecture… His thoughts turned dark.

“Was it always like this?” He finally asked, vaguely. Koska raised an eyebrow at him, but it was Bo-Katan who turned now, meeting his gaze head on. 

“No.” She answered, tone unreadable. “It was beautiful, once. Clean. It was home.” 

Din frowned.

“If it was home, then why did you bomb it.”

It was asked rhetorically, his tone even - more to make a point than really inquire. His real question was, ‘if you valued it so little then, why do you care so much about it now?’

In the last few months of traveling with the Nite Owls, he’d learned more about the convoluted history of the Mandalorians… the battle between New Mandalorians and the True Mandalorians… the split of the True Mandalorians into Death Watch, who wanted to take back Mandalore from the peace-loving locals, and the martialists that instead scattered to the Outer Rim to form their own tribes… how the Death Watch then split into the Nite Owls, the Shadow Collective, and other sects… like his own tribe, the Children of the Watch. It had been a lot to take in, but as convoluted and troubled as it was, it was his heritage - and Bo-Katan’s too.

Especially knowing now that she herself was once a prominent member of Death Watch, it made him wonder where this sudden desire to revive what once was on Mandalore had come from. If anything, he thought she’d embrace the more militant sects that had split off from the Tribe, embrace the nomadic lifestyle that revered ‘kill or be killed’... And yet, she wanted to take back the planet that had housed a people she disdained. Something didn’t fit, and he was sick of politics.

Bo-Katan still wore her embellished helmet, but he could feel her narrowing her eyes into a glare at him. Her temper always did burn hot.

For once, he was glad for it. He wasn’t sure why, but here, now, he was _itching_ for a fight. The discomfort of the hot, dry sand getting under his armor… the lingering loss of his ship and his- his _foundling…_ the prickling defensiveness of his upbringing in the covert… 

_She’d_ dragged him into this kriffing quest to rebuild Mandalore, _insisted_ that he take up the mantle he’d _unintentionally_ won. And then over the past few weeks, she’d questioned his leadership at every turn. Insulting the Way of his Tribe, disdaining his lack of interest in galactic politics, scoffing at the gaps in his knowledge of his own culture’s history… If his claim to _Mand’alor_ was so distasteful to her, he wished she’d just _take_ the darksaber and be done with it. But no, she still refused. His building frustration was finally finding a vent.

“I...” She huffed angrily. “The intent was not wanton destruction; it was politics. The people hiding in their domes had become weak, complacent. They’d abandoned their tradition, the _Resol'nare_ , their _beskar’gam_. They were no longer Mandalorians, they were Republic puppets.”

“You _still_ feel that way, after everything that happened? That it was worth _this_?” He waved an arm at their surroundings.

Bo-Katan scoffed but Din kept her gaze. Finally she ripped off her helmet and sneered at him, eyes flashing.

“ _You’re_ one to talk, _Child of the Watch_. You scorned us the moment we took off our helmets. Imagine a planet of “Mandalorians” that wore no armor at all, that had never taken the Creed or earned adulthood in trial by combat. They didn’t _deserve_ to call Mandalore their home.”

Din said nothing, imagining a city of soft bodies with no beskar shells that called themselves _Mando’ade_. He agreed that he couldn’t really fathom it. They weren’t Mandalorians… they were galactic citizens who lived on Mandalore. Nothing more. Still, he thought darkly, perhaps this was the natural evolution of their culture. Those people had still been born on Mandalore, they still had some sort of claim to the planet as their home… as much as Mandalorians who swore the Creed did. While a part of him could understand the Death Watch’s disgust, he didn’t think he ever could have ever been party to attacking his own planet's citizens. 

Then, he tried to imagine a beautiful, clean, domed city like Keldabe inhabited by full _beskar’gam_ clad Mandalorians... doing dishes, having children, filing paperwork, flying taxis… that image didn’t fit either. Theirs was a culture from an older age, a people that no longer fit into the fabric of the galaxy… Feeling lost and angry and a petty desire to be contrary, he just shrugged. 

“The _Resol'nare_ teaches us that battle culls the weak, and empowers the strong. That only the strong should survive. The New Mandalorians won your Civil War, if I heard right. Wouldn’t that have given them rights to the planet, by combat? But your little coup couldn’t let it go, dividing and dividing, and now we’re on a dead planet, scouting a city full of nothing but sand.” His tone darkened. “What are you _really_ trying to do here?”

Bo-Katan snarled and took a step towards him, prodding a finger in his direction. “And what was your Tribe doing? Running away to the farthest corner of the galaxy to hide under your helmets and apply the Mandalorian art of battle to _bounty hunting_? We are warriors, conquerors, not petty mercs. We fight for honor, not _credits_.” She spat into the sand at his feet.

Din bristled at the slight on his Tribe. Their way of life may have been sheltered, but it was elegant, prideful, and it had ensured their survival unti…. until…

The unbidden pain of that loss added kerosene to the fire of his anger.

“Yes, Mandalorian heritage. Tradition. The Way.” He seethed. “Where has it gotten us? Defeated by the Jedi, manipulated by the Republic, enslaved and glassed by the Empire. We’re a scattered people with an endangered way of life. Maybe it’s not _meant_ to survive.” He was quietly shouting now, voice hard. He didn’t even know if he really believed what he was saying, but words were bubbling up from a well of buried fears and indignant rage.   
  
“Maybe my Tribe was never _meant_ to last. I don’t know Kryze, but look around you! This is a city of ghosts, you want to revive some... dead thing. Do you imagine **_us_ ** living here in dome-cities, going about our lives? We’ll just become as they were if we live like this - become the very thing you hated. Why keep doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome?!”

“We have to try _something_ , Din.” Bo-Katan seethed back, closing the distance between them, voice so strained it nearly vibrated in the air. “You suggest just letting our people die out, scattered across the galaxy, weak and alone, hiding like rats in tunnels? Where is your pride?”   
  
“What I _suggest_ , is trying something different.” He reached down roughly and unclipped the darksaber from his belt, holding it out to her with an angry jerk of his arm. “Starting with this. You want to lead so bad, why don’t you just _take_ it for kriff’s sake. Why cling to this tradition of fighting me to the death for it? It’s just a symbol, use it. I know you think I’m unfit, so _take it_.” His voice choked roughly, strained by grief. “You’re right about me. I don’t deserve it. I got my entire covert killed… men, women, _children_ , dead because of- of me.”

Bo-Katan’s face went from enraged to unreadable, then she was looking down at the floor, fists shaking. 

“ _You_ … sacrificed everything to protect a foundling. Your tribe, your ship, your life, your Creed. You have come to our aid the moment we asked more than once. You fought and won the darksaber, then used it to save Mandalorian lives. If you are unworthy, then _none_ of us are worthy.” Finally she looked up and her eyes were red rimmed. “You, me, it doesn’t matter. I- Death Watch-” she seemed to falter before her face finally crumpled.

“I got my _sister_ _killed_ , Djarin.” She finally hissed in grief, face inches from his. “She was murdered and it was _my_ fault. My actions splintered our society, brought ruin down upon our _entire_ planet. I am no more _deserving_ than you.” She stopped, heaving a shuddering breath, and Din stood in stunned silence. 

“ _ **I’m sorry, I... didn’t know.** _About your sister...” 

Bo-Katan brushed his apology aside and pointed a finger into his cuirass with hard features.   
  
“The Way of the Mandalore _will_ die out if we don’t do something. It _cannot_ end this way. Being _Mand’alor_ , it’s not about being deserving, or worthy. It's about being willing to do what needs to be done _now_ to save your people, your culture. And not just willing, but _able_ to fight for it. Is that not something you feel is worth doing?”

Din swallowed. “You know I do.”

Like a switch had been flipped, Bo-Katan leaned away from him, standing straighter, and smirked as though they hadn’t just been whisper-shouting heatedly at each other. “Well, seems you could be _Mand’alor_ material after all then.”

Feeling whiplash at the sudden change in direction and tone of their conversation, Din stopped, staring at Bo-Katan with narrowed eyes through his visor, shoulders tense. 

It would appear he still had a lot to learn about this woman.

A rustle and a rough clearing of throats sounded beside them as Koska and Axe stood, dusting themselves off.

“Are you two done?” Axe deadpanned, pulling his helmet back on. 

Bo-Katan gave Din a side-eye, the smirk still on her lips.

“Yeah. We’re done.”

“Good,” Koska sighed, the voice modulator through her helmet crackling. “Cause my butt was starting to fall asleep.”

Sighing, Din moved to take point, the darksaber heavy against his hip.

“Let’s move out.” He tossed over his shoulder, advancing through the empty streets of Keldabe, rifle primed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a Translations:**  
>  Mand’alor - sole ruler of Mandalore  
> Resol'nare - Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life  
> beskar’gam - mandalorian armor  
> Mando’ade - children of Mandalore


	8. Author's Note: Please read!

Hi all,

I'm still relatively new to AO3 (only posted my first fic in Dec 2020), and finally realized after posting a few of these chaps that something like this would have been _way_ better organized as a Series, rather than a single muli-chap fic. (That will also will allow me to add certain chaps that fit into my "[Missing Scenes](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055501)" series into that timeline.)

I'm still figuring out how this all works, so, apologies for the switch-up, but I'll be reposting each of these chaps as their own fic in my new series: [Febuwhump 2021: The Mandalorian Misadventures](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156874)

If you're subscribed to this fic, please go subscribe to that series for updates moving forward! I'll be posting the rest of my Febuwhump fics there, thanks!


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